The Replacement
by Minn
Summary: Faith loses her mind. Hah! Think of this as a small step on the journey to Grace...
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: THE REPLACEMENT  
  
AUTHOR: MINN  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin' - mores the pity - just playing. No character was really harmed during the typing of this nonsense. The creators of Third Watch are, of course, gods. (But if you ever do get stuck for ideas, guys, gimme a call...HAH!)  
  
CHEERS! to all the kind folks who said such nice things about my maiden outing "Grace". Just remember, if you encourage me, you'll NEVER get rid of me...  
  
EXPLAINATION: This wasn't HALF as much fun to write as Grace was, so don't feel too bad if you find yourself not liking it. Consider this as back-story - the journey to Grace, if you like. But be patient. Nothing in the Minn-verse ever happens quickly...  
  
********   
  
PART ONE  
  
  
Somewhere at the edge of the darkness that held her close, voices echoed.  
  
Though they sounded nearer this time and had more form, there was still a detached, almost disembodied character to them she found disturbing. The pain that accompanied her attempts to focus on anything other than the still black fog in which she felt suspended was excruciating.  
  
Instinctively she withdrew from the voices and they began to fade.  
  
The next occasion the voices intruded upon her consciousness they were stronger and clearer than ever. This time she could discern they were that of two men and a woman. Her other senses brought her the feel of coarse and heavy blankets covering her and the smell of musty stale air mingled with wood smoke. The surface on which she lay tried its best to be comfortable in places, but was mostly lumpy and bruising.  
  
The voices were in earnest conversation.  
  
"We should have taken her to a hospital," one of the men was saying.  
  
"No hospitals!" yelped the woman. "Not what they did to Billie."  
  
"Billie was old," said the other man in a tone that was softer, gentler than the others.  
  
"No hospitals!"   
  
The sharpness of the woman's voice was like a knife to her skull. Lying prone she guessed somewhere not too far from them she attempted to rise. A gasp escaped her as pain shot around her head and down through every inch of her. As it subsided she raised an unsteady hand and gingerly fingered a large and very painful lump on her head just above her right temple.  
  
Silence followed, so complete she began to wonder if those who had been speaking were still there.  
  
"She's awake," she heard the woman say in a hoarse stage whisper.  
  
A hand gently touching her arm followed the sounds of a shuffling approach.  
  
"You OK?" asked the gentle voice.  
  
Her throat was parched and uncooperative. Barely able to open her eyes, her vision was less than perfect, and though the room was far from brightly lit, what illumination there was proved barely tolerable. She tried her voice once more.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"Safe!"  
  
The reply was so loud and so close it made her jump.  
  
"Meredith!" hissed the gentle voice. "Not so loud."  
  
The owner of the voice moved closer and despite the shortcomings in her vision she could see he was an elderly man with a kind face.  
  
"Would you like a drink?" he asked softly.  
  
She nodded as gently as she was able. The man produced a small glass and offered it to her. The rust flavoured water was only just palatable but it felt good washing the back of her throat. She slowly turned her head to where Meredith crouched watching her with wide-eyed fascination. She wasn't as elderly as the man, nor was she young, but her face had a strange child-like quality to it.  
  
"What happened to you?" Meredith suddenly asked.  
  
Another voice, further back in the shadows where her vision wasn't reaching, responded tartly: "We've already told you about a dozen times!"  
  
The glass paused on her lips. A confusing rush of images paraded through her mind but none of them had any meaning to her. They may as well have been the memories of a stranger. As the moments passed her confusion grew and slowly began to consolidate into panic. Her mind was a puzzle of abstract pieces that had no order or meaning to her whatsoever. The rising panic reached new heights when she found she could not even recall her own name.  
  
She looked from the man to Meredith and back again.  
  
"I...can't think properly..."  
  
Images flew through her mind. She chased each one frantically but they just became even more elusive and incomprehensible.  
  
"My name...what's my name?"  
  
There was a moment's pause.  
  
"Marti," said the man with comforting authority. "I'm Manny, or Manfred if you want to be proper; this is Meredith. And over there," he indicated into the shadows, "is Lockey."  
  
"You know me?"  
  
"Of course we do," Manny assured her with a warm smile. "We've all been together...what is it now Meredith? Five years?"  
  
Meredith stared at her companion blankly. In the background Lockey was muttering something that she couldn't quite make out.  
  
"You need to rest, Marti," Manny said, taking her hand with warm familiarity as he relieved it of the now empty glass. "You've been through a lot.  
  
"I need to know what happened..." she began, but discovered quickly what a bad idea trying to rise was. Falling back against the musty pillows behind her wasn't terribly clever either, because the pain that shot through her head and most of her body was searing.  
  
"As I said, you need to rest some more," she heard Manny say. After tucking the blankets around her he rose from the rickety old chair he had been sitting in and shuffled away. Meredith trotted after him.  
  
Once he was some distance from her he took Lockey to one side and whispered: "Don't ask any stupid questions. Go and find the others."   
  
"What the hell are you up to old man?" Lockey hissed.  
  
"Just go and find the others," Manny replied. "And take Meredith with you."  
  
When his companions had gone Manny settled himself at the old battered table in the centre of the room upon which an old lamp and some candles sat. From his coat pocket he pulled a scrap of newspaper. Carefully unfolding it he peered again at the photo accompanying the article on a New York City police officer, missing, feared dead.  
  
He leaned closer to the lamp and squinted at the name beneath photo accompanying the article.  
  
"Officer...Faith...Yokas."  
  
Crumpling the paper back into his pocket Manny looked over to where their new companion lay and exhaled heavily.  
  
"Not any more."  
  
*************************   
  
TBC 


	2. The Replacement Part 2

TITLE: THE REPLACEMENT  
  
AUTHOR: MINN  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin' - mores the pity - just playing. No character was really harmed during the typing of this nonsense. The creators of Third Watch are, of course, gods. (But if you ever do get stuck for ideas, guys, gimme a call...HAH!)  
  
CHEERS! to all the kind folks who said such nice things about my maiden outing "Grace". Just remember, if you encourage me, you'll NEVER get rid of me...  
  
EXPLAINATION: This wasn't HALF as much fun to write as Grace was, so don't feel too bad if you find yourself not liking it. Consider this as back-story - the journey to Grace, if you like. But be patient. Nothing in the Minn-verse ever happens quickly...  
  
*********   
  
PART TWO  
  
  
The others were dubious about the plan, but their faith in Manny was such that they chose, in the main, not to question it.  
  
Bob, Rita, Little D, Byron, Angus, Partridge and Meredith were either too disinterested, or self concerned, or just plain ditzy to be bothered. They had a new friend, a new ally, and as far as they were concerned questions of past and identity were irrelevant.  
  
Lockey, however, was another story.  
  
Manny and Lockey sat by the old furnace that night after everyone else had retired to bed. After some long moments of silence Lockey leaned forward and fixed the older man with a sharp stare.  
  
"What's this all about Manny?"  
  
"What's what all about?"  
  
Lockey's face darkened. "Don't play dumb with an old con like me, schoolteacher. You got me to lie like a flat fish to a houseful of NYPD that old Bob told me he saw two shitbags dumping her body into the river. I wanna know why."  
  
Manny stared into the flames of the small fire. "This one has heart," he murmured.  
  
"This one probably has family, Manny!"  
  
"Keep your voice down," the old man whispered harshly. "She doesn't remember her life. We can keep her till she does...if she does..."  
  
"Keep her?! She's not a frikkin' stray dog!" Lockey snarled. "She's probably someone's wife and mother! They'll be needin' her..."  
  
"We need her more."  
  
Lockey regarded Manfred with a deepening frown. "What's that s'posed to mean?"  
  
"I'm not going to be around forever..."  
  
Lockey was incredulous. "You want her to replace you?!"  
  
"A ship needs a Captain," Manny said quietly.  
  
Lockey threw himself back in the chair he sat in and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "You've been hangin' round these fruit cakes way too long old man. You've finally gone round the bend yourself."  
  
Manny shook his head slowly. "Think what you like Lockey - just keep your mouth shut. If she asks about her past, just tell her you don't know anything, she just turned up one day."  
  
"And what happens when she gets her memory back?"  
  
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Manny replied.  
  
"WE'LL cross the bridge?" Lockey hissed. " No way. YOU'LL cross the god damn bridge Manny - and you'll do it alone."  
  
------  
  
"We thought we'd lost them."  
  
In the long silence that followed Bosco carefully scrutinised the faces of his superior officers, looking for any clues as to their thoughts.  
  
He noticed the Captain tapping a pen on the report Bosco had written about the incident upon his discharge from hospital.  
  
"Go on Boscorelli," said Swerskey patiently.  
  
"It happened fast. One minute I'm standing there, the next I get clubbed from behind - never heard a thing. I couldn't so much as see straight, let alone..."  
  
He let the sentence hang hopelessly on the air.  
  
"Is that when you were relieved of your weapons?"  
  
Bosco fixed the Captain with a steady, unimpressed gaze. "Yeah, I guess. I was too out of it to know much."  
  
"And Officer Yokas?"  
  
As surely as if she were in the room with them he heard her shout his name. He remembered looking up, groggy and disoriented, only to see her felled by a blow to her head courtesy of a pipe wielding teenager, one of two they'd been tracking for who knew how many city blocks. They moved so fast, so quietly, like ghosts...  
  
Faith had hit the ground so hard, lain so still. In his attempt to get to her he had been set upon again.  
  
"I must have blacked out," he murmured. The last clear image he had of Faith was seeing her jacket being stripped from her limp body.   
  
"A witness spoken to..." Swerskey began only to have Bosco sharply interrupt him.  
  
"There was a witness?"  
  
"An elderly man..."  
  
"What'd he see?" Bosco's innate intensity, never a comfortable thing to be around anyway, positively engulfed every square inch of the small room in which they sat.  
  
"He says he saw the suspects put Yokas in the squad and drive away," the Captain answered him patiently.  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"That's all," the Captain replied.  
  
"Another witness came forward three days ago claiming an old drunk he knows told him he saw two teens dumping an officer's body into the river not far from where they found the squad," Swerskey continued. "We're trying to verify the man's statement now."  
  
"They don't know she was dead," said Bosco quickly.  
  
"We don't know if she was alive either." Lieu's tone had a chilling finality to it.   
  
"If Yokas survived the blow to her head but was unconscious at the time she was dumped into the river, there's every likelihood she would have drowned," the Captain said grimly.  
  
Bosco was staring at the table like it was a suspect.  
  
"I don't believe this," he murmured.  
  
"Dive teams have combed the river..."  
  
"Maybe she's not in the river to find," said Bosco quickly.  
  
A jaded but not unsympathetic silence greeted the statement.  
  
"It's been five days, Boscorelli, and in that time the whole area has been searched thoroughly. There's no sign," the Captain answered. "Now, that could be a good thing, or it could just mean we're looking in the wrong place."  
  
Swerskey leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table in front of him.  
  
"Bosco, you know as well as I do," he said softly, "that Faith's first priority, if she survived and was capable of doing so, would be to make contact with her family. She hasn't."  
  
Bosco continued to stare at the table, his fists clenched tightly in front of him.  
  
"There's nothing I can add to my report," he said stiffly. "Can I go now?"  
  
"We want you to see someone about this Boscorelli."  
  
"Counselling? Sure Lieu. Anything you say. Can I go?"  
  
Swerskey eyed him sceptically. "Make sure you..."  
  
Bosco was already on his way out the door.  
  
********************** TBC 


	3. The Replacement Part 3

TITLE: THE REPLACEMENT  
  
AUTHOR: MINN  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin' - mores the pity - just playing. No character was really harmed during the typing of this nonsense. The creators of Third Watch are, of course, gods. (But if you ever do get stuck for ideas, guys, gimme a call...HAH!)  
  
CHEERS! to all the kind folks who said such nice things about my maiden outing "Grace". Just remember, if you encourage me, you'll NEVER get rid of me...  
  
EXPLAINATION: This wasn't HALF as much fun to write as Grace was, so don't feel too bad if you find yourself not liking it. Consider this as back-story - the journey to Grace, if you like. But be patient. Nothing in the Minn-verse ever happens quickly...  
  
*********   
  
PART THREE  
  
  
If only.   
  
God, a man could get to hate that phrase.  
  
He sat in his car and stared moodily at the scene before him. Decrepit neglected buildings. Dark alleys. Waste ground. The river.  
  
If only he'd listened to Faith and let units closer to the action deal with it. But there were those magic words: suspects wanted for questioning - on an incident he and Faith had 'handled' earlier in the day.  
  
He got out of the car. There, by the shabby doorway. That's where she lay...  
  
If only they'd waited for backup.   
  
"They're a couple of kids," he recalled saying.  
  
"Bos, nowadays they're just as dangerous as any other kind."  
  
Funny how he always thought he knew better but it was Faith who actually did.  
  
He walked forward, cramming his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The wind was chilling and damp. He continued walking until he stood beside the river. It was the same icy iron grey of the clouds crowding low over the city skyline.  
  
If only they hadn't let their guard down, assumed the teens had fled.   
  
If only he'd realised someone was ghosting up behind him ready to strike.  
  
If only.  
  
If only she were with him now.  
  
"It's a bitter old day."  
  
Bosco turned to face the owner of the voice, an elderly man swathed in a battered old coat that once may have been a quality item. His face seemed familiar.  
  
"You live around here old man?"  
  
"Here and there," was the soft reply. "Are you looking for something?"  
  
Bosco glanced at the river. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about what happened here about the middle of last week?"  
  
"You mean, about the police officer who was killed?"  
  
Bosco flinched.  
  
"Apparently there was a witness."  
  
The old man shrugged. "And what may I ask is your interest in it?"  
  
"She...the officer...was my partner."  
  
Recognition lit the old man's face. "Ohh, of course. Yes, you're the mouthy one who considered the world would not miss "some crazy old bag lady" had she been run down by that drunk in the car."  
  
Bosco averted his eyes to the ground as he finally realised why the old man seemed familiar. Earlier in the day, the day they had been attacked, he and Faith had witnessed a car run up on the sidewalk and nearly collect the old man's ditzy friend. Faith had been all concern and compassion for the woman. Typically, too typically, he had not.  
  
"You know, it's a real shame," the old man murmured. "I think those thugs threw the wrong officer into the river."  
  
Bosco felt himself nodding. "For what it's worth, I agree."  
  
The old man wasn't quite prepared for that. He scrutinised Bosco carefully, and noted he seemed to be in a great deal of emotional pain.  
  
"Did she..."  
  
"Faith. Her name was...Faith."  
  
"Did Faith have a family?"  
  
"Husband and two kids."  
  
"Were they happy?"  
  
Bosco shrugged. "For the most part I guess. You know how it is."  
  
The old man nodded. "I don't know that there's a lot more I can tell you Officer...?"  
  
"Boscorelli. Maurice Boscorelli."  
  
"Not a lot more I can tell you that I haven't already told your colleagues."  
  
Bosco's eyes suddenly clamped their gaze upon him.  
  
"You were the witness?"  
  
"Was passing just as they were bundling her into the car. I had to stay hidden - they would likely have taken to me too." He sounded ashamed. "I wish I could have done something for your partner. She seemed a decent woman."  
  
"She was. The best."  
  
The old man regarded Bosco knowingly. "I'm sorry for your loss, son," he said, and shuffled away.  
  
------  
  
It was just a moment, a scrap of a memory. But unlike all the others that whirled around her mind, this one lingered.  
  
She started awake. The pain in her head had reduced itself to a dull ache, but was still intense enough for her to prefer lying motionless with her eyes closed.  
  
It was the strangest feeling, to caress a memory that was her own and yet not know a thing about it. But she did know him, that much was clear; knew him well. His name remained elusive but the feeling he was someone who had meaning in her life was undeniable.  
  
A shuffling by her side announced Manny's approach.  
  
"Something to eat," he said, helping her as she slowly eased herself into a sitting position and opened her eyes.  
  
Manny handed her a bagel and a steaming cup of soup. "The soup is surprisingly good today."  
  
She lifted it to her lips and discovered the truth in Manny's words.  
  
"Better than yesterdays," she murmured. "They must've cleaned the pots this time."  
  
Manny chuckled. "I'm sure the Sisters who run the shelter's kitchen would be thrilled to hear you approve."  
  
She smiled. "Sisters huh? As in nuns?" She took a bite of the bagel and regarded the old man as he smiled quietly at her.  
  
"You gonna tell me what happened to me?"  
  
"If you would like me to Marti," he replied gently.  
  
"Yeah. Just to see if it'll jog somethin', you know?" She waved the hand that held the bagel vaguely at her head.  
  
Manny shifted around in the chair he sat in and cleared his throat.  
  
"There's not a lot to tell," he began, fixing his gaze upon her. "I came around the corner and found you struggling with two thugs. Just as I am about to say something one of them hits you in the head with a pipe. When they see Bob and Lockey and me and they run. Fortunately for us."  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"That's all I saw."   
  
"Why didn't you take me to the hospital?" she asked.  
  
"Marti you hate hospitals," he replied.  
  
She frowned. Looking about her she could see their place of refuge was an old basement. Scattered around were items of old furniture, a large table, chairs, a couch and more chairs. Small islands of possessions and bedding were neatly arranged along each of the walls dormitory fashion. Thin threads of light were doing their best to brighten the gloom through small grimy windows high in the wall to her right.   
  
"I don't remember this place," she said.  
  
"Do you remember anything?" Manny asked.  
  
"I remember you. And Meredith. Sort of. It's a bit unclear..."   
  
The image that had lingered earlier returned. "And a face. I think it's someone I'm close to." She looked pleadingly at Manny. "Can you tell me anything about my family? Do I have family?"  
  
Manny fidgeted in the chair. "Honey, you've never said a word about any family for as long as I've known you," he said without a word of a lie. "I don't know any more than you do. I'm sorry."  
  
She stared at him, sadness casting a troubled shadow over her expressive eyes.  
  
"That can't be good," she murmured.  
  
"Don't think the worst Marti."  
  
"Kinda hard not to," she replied.  
  
In her mind the boyish and cheeky face smiled at her, the warmth in his blue eyes heartbreaking in their intensity. The look that held her was clearly one of great affection.   
  
Whoever he was, he loved her. Of that she had no doubt.   
  
**********************   
  
TBC 


	4. The Replacement Part 4

TITLE: THE REPLACEMENT  
  
AUTHOR: MINN  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin' - mores the pity - just playing. No character was really harmed during the typing of this nonsense. The creators of Third Watch are, of course, gods. (But if you ever do get stuck for ideas guys, gimme a call...HAH!)  
  
CHEERS! to all the kind folks who said such nice things about my maiden outing "Grace". Just remember, if you encourage me, you'll NEVER get rid of me...  
  
EXPLAINATION: This wasn't HALF as much fun to write as Grace was, so don't feel too bad if you find yourself not liking it. Consider this as back-story - the journey to Grace, if you like. But be patient. Nothing in the Minn-verse ever happens quickly...  
  
*********   
  
PART FOUR  
  
  
"I'm not Faith!"  
  
Sully's voice thundered around the confined space of the squad.  
  
"I'm not gonna wipe your ass and tell you it's gonna be alright every time you shit all over something or someone!"  
  
Getting out of the car, Sully banged the door shut and began marching towards the precinct house, still raging.  
  
"I mean, are you wrong in the head or something? We could have had our heads blown off because of you, you stupid son of a bitch! What the hell were you trying to prove?"  
  
Bosco was silent as he followed Sully into the house.  
  
"Stupid damn glory hunting piece of...why the hell do you have to go superhero on everyone all the time?"  
  
"I thought they were the kids who attacked Faith..."  
  
"Crap!" Sully spat.  
  
A new angry voice blocked Bosco's way forward.  
  
"You! In my office now!"  
  
"I don't want to be partnered with this asshole Lieu!" Sully yelled.  
  
"Who the hell does, Sullivan?" Lieu retorted. "This little prick is the biggest pain in the ass known to man."  
  
He loved it when people put him down like he wasn't in the room to hear. It always brought back so many childhood memories.  
  
Lieu's tirade was the same one Sully had given him, only with slightly different words.   
  
Sitting listening to Lieu rage, Bosco's mind wandered away as ghosts of the past began to stalk him, one voice rising above the all of the others. All you're good for is arresting people...you don't use your head...you know nothing about discretion...you're immature, unreliable, useless...  
  
"Are you even listening to me Boscorelli?" Lieu stood over him.  
  
But it was the other voice that held his attention and filled every corner of his mind.  
  
"You don't listen to me any more..."  
  
I'd give anything now to be listening to you lecture me like I was one of your kids, Faith...  
  
"Bosco!"  
  
He flinched at the power in Swerskey's voice. "I hear you Lieu."  
  
"The hell you do, you..." Swerskey took a breath and made an attempt to compose himself. "This is your third and last warning, Boscorelli. If you don't smarten up your ideas, I'll personally kick you sorry ass into the street. Now get out!"  
  
Bosco stood and wordlessly headed for the door. As he left he heard Lieu bellow after him:  
  
"And for Christsake get some fucking help!"  
  
Lieu must be really pissed at me, he thought. That's not a word he was given to using.  
  
  
It had been almost two weeks since Faith's disappearance. It had been generally accepted by her colleagues at the 55 that she was dead and that her still missing remains would turn up, eventually, to give the family some kind of closure.  
  
Bosco punched the door of the locker room open and came to an abrupt halt.  
  
Standing at his wife's locker was Fred Yokas, slowly placing the contents into the box he cradled under his arm.   
  
Sully approached Fred and held out his hand to warmly shake Fred's own.   
  
"I'm so sorry about Faith," he murmured. "She was one of the best."  
  
Fred nodded and glanced Bosco's way. Sully's gaze followed and the irritation he still felt flared again. "It's a real shame how these things work out sometimes."  
  
As Sully took his leave and moved off, he paused at the door where Bosco stood.   
  
"You pull another stunt like you pulled today and god help me I'll shoot you and throw you in the river myself," he snarled.  
  
Bosco said nothing.  
  
Fred continued what he was doing as Bosco approached him.  
  
"Fred," Bosco nodded.  
  
"Boscorelli."  
  
The unruffled serenity of the man irritated the hell out of Bosco. You've just lost your wife, Yokas, you should be out there breaking heads...  
  
"Fred, I'm sorry about...about what happened to Faith."  
  
Fred glanced at him, unmoved.  
  
"I'm sorry I couldn't...didn't..."  
  
"I don't blame you Bosco, if that's what you're worried about," Fred murmured quietly placing items in the box.  
  
"Is that all you've got to say?"  
  
Fred exhaled heavily and stared fixedly into the locker's interior.  
  
"What do you want me to say Boscorelli?"  
  
Bosco looked at the ground, shrugging.  
  
There was a long stretch of silence before either of them spoke again.  
  
"A higher power than you had Faith's destiny in hand that night," Fred said quietly.  
  
The simmering anger in him boiled again.  
  
"Don't give me that crap!"   
  
"It's not crap. She's safe now - nothing else can ever harm her, not you, not me, not the damn job."  
  
Bosco glared at him, remembering all the times Faith lamented Fred's lack of support for her chosen career.  
  
"You always said it would kill her, didn't you Fred? Well congratulations, you were finally right."  
  
Fred paused a moment before placing the last item in the box. Closing the now empty locker he turned to leave.  
  
"The memorial service is Friday," he muttered, and walked away.  
  
***************   
  
TBC - Yeah, yeah, I know, get on with it... 


	5. The Replacement Part 5

TITLE: THE REPLACEMENT  
  
AUTHOR: MINN  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin' - mores the pity - just playing. No character was really harmed during the typing of this nonsense. The creators of Third Watch are, of course, gods. (But if you ever do get stuck for ideas guys, gimme a call...HAH!)  
  
CHEERS! to all the kind folks who said such nice things about my maiden outing "Grace". Just remember, if you encourage me, you'll NEVER get rid of me...  
  
EXPLAINATION: This wasn't HALF as much fun to write as Grace was, so don't feel too bad if you find yourself not liking it. Consider this as back-story - the journey to Grace, if you like. But be patient. Nothing in the Minn-verse ever happens quickly...  
  
*********   
  
PART FIVE  
  
  
The sun felt good on her skin.  
  
Though it was cold, she was sheltered from the more chilling effects of the wind by the broad sweep of the brick wall she sat in front of. It helped that Manny had bundled her in as many coats as he could find, topped it all with a fairly unattractive woolly hat and provided her with a warm blanket to place across her knees.  
  
She watched as Manny emerged from the steps that led down into their basement hideaway and approached her with two steaming mugs, one in each hand. He sat himself down on the chair beside her.  
  
"You look better already," he smiled, handing her one of the mugs. "Instant soup - not flash, but warming."  
  
She accepted it gratefully, warming her hands on the mug.  
  
"It's nice to see the sun," she said, lifting her face skyward.  
  
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.  
  
She brought the mug to her lips and sipped at the contents.   
  
"More memories?"  
  
She frowned. What she'd experienced last night didn't have the same quality as the scattering of memories that were edging back into her conscious awareness. Last night had more the quality of a fantasy - but what a fantasy. She shivered as she relived the memory of his touch lingering sweetly on her body.  
  
"I'm not sure," she answered. "Let me put it this way, I really hope that it was a memory."  
  
"Pleasant was it?"  
  
"Yeah. Real pleasant." Exquisitely so. Surprisingly so. But why surprising?  
  
"The mind is a funny thing, Marti," Manny said gently. "Don't push yourself too hard. It's early days yet, and your body is still healing."  
  
She turned and smiled at him. Manny's gentle ways and thoughtful wisdom had endeared the old schoolteacher to her over the weeks that had passed.   
  
As for the group of which she found herself a part, it was like a co-operative. In the ramshackle neighbourhood in which they lived, Manny and the others were well known and for the most part, respected, or so Lockey had told her. Lockey though, had a way about him that made her...suspicious, like he was being a bit fast and loose with the truth.  
  
"Too often people in our society are discarded, written off, institutionalised if they don't fit a narrow band of what it is to be normal," Manny had lamented in one memorable chat they had shared. "There is no dignity in being left to rot in a home."  
  
"Living in a basement is dignity?" she'd said.  
  
"It's freedom, Marti. Freedom to contribute. That's where the dignity lies. In an institution they don't want contribution - they want conformity. Do as you are told, when you are told, how you are told. Every decision, every move is dictated to you by the will of another. What you feel, what you think is irrelevant. Here, with what we've created, we have a chance to still be useful and contributing members of society. We don't accept charity. We offer something in return for the goodness and kindness people show us."  
  
Every member of the group had a job she had discovered, whether it was searching for firewood, or helping to work the community gardens in exchange for a hot meal, or any number of things they all appeared more than willing to turn their hands to. Under Manny's careful guidance the group functioned like a well oiled machine, each member having something to contribute to the whole. From what she could gather from Manny, she was, or had been, his right hand man come apprentice.  
  
The sound of shrill laughter attracted her attention. She turned her gaze to a group of children playing on the waste ground near the river. As she watched them images began to flit through her mind. At first they were pleasant and had something to do with children and a family life of some kind. But then the images darkened. She was fighting with someone.  
  
Manny noticed her preoccupied silence. "Marti?"  
  
"I have children," she murmured. "Two children."  
  
Manny was silent for a moment.  
  
"Do you know their names?"  
  
She focused, chasing each image around and around in her head. But no names were forthcoming. "No." The disappointment in her voice was clear.  
  
Manny placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It'll come, Marti," he murmured. "Just give it time."  
  
"Do you have children Manny?" she asked after a while.  
  
Manny nodded.  
  
"Do you keep in touch?"  
  
He shook his head. "I haven't spoken to my son or daughter in over six years," he said softly.  
  
She looked surprised. "What'd they do?"  
  
Manny exhaled heavily and stared at the children still playing on the waste ground. "All she wanted was to die with her mind intact."  
  
She watched him carefully, aware that he was clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not."  
  
He looked at her, a look of warmth and affection in his eyes. "I think it's time I shared this with someone," he said softly.   
  
Clearing his throat Manny fixed his gaze on the river and the distance beyond. "Helen and I were together thirty five years - she was my second wife. My first marriage lasted twenty years before we finally figured it out that we were no longer on the same page, so to speak. It was never like that with Helen. We were similar, yet we were different from each other - like polar opposites. But we had things in common, and that was a large part of it I think. We were both teachers, we both loved books and our spiritual beliefs were very similar. Helen believed, like me, that a persons spirit should not be trapped in a useless body."  
  
Manny paused. "But the children." He shook his head. "They couldn't understand why Helen didn't want to put herself through all the pain and discomfort of the treatment for her condition, especially when the expectation of a full recovery was as low as it was." He turned to her. "Aggressive form of cancer," he said simply.  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Helen just wanted to pass quietly away at home with me caring for her - and I was willing to do it too. But the children. They wanted her to try every new operation and drug there was going. I mean, I understand all they wanted was to see their mother well again...but I don't think they realised Helen had already decided she wanted to quit this life and move on."  
  
"You believe in an after life?"  
  
"Reincarnation." Manny smiled at the look on her face. "No, the children didn't get it either."  
  
He cleared his throat once more and reached for a handkerchief concealed somewhere in the depths of one of his pockets. "Helen could never say no to those kids - it was her one major weakness. She adored them, and they adored her...so she gave in and went for the operation."  
  
Manny lifted the handkerchief to his eyes and dabbed at them. "They thought it had gone well at first, but then she began to have strokes. Just little ones at first. But each one took away another piece of Helen, another piece of her dignity. In the end I had to put her in a home - I simply wasn't able to cope with the level of care she required. At the end there I could barely recognise her - and I'm sure she had absolutely no idea who I was. After 35 years together..." His voice trailed off and the tears were coming fast. "I know they didn't set out to hurt us Marti, but I simply can't find it in my heart to forgive them."  
  
She put the mug down at her feet and leaned over to him, slipping a comforting arm across his shoulders as he cried.  
  
*********** TBC 


	6. The Replacement Part 6

TITLE: THE REPLACEMENT  
  
AUTHOR: MINN  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin' - mores the pity - just playing. No character was really harmed during the typing of this nonsense. The creators of Third Watch are, of course, gods. (But if you ever do get stuck for ideas guys, gimme a call...HAH!)  
  
CHEERS! to all the kind folks who said such nice things about my maiden outing "Grace". Just remember, if you encourage me, you'll NEVER get rid of me...  
  
EXPLAINATION: This wasn't HALF as much fun to write as Grace was, so don't feel too bad if you find yourself not liking it. Consider this as back-story - the journey to Grace, if you like. But be patient. Nothing in the Minn-verse ever happens quickly...  
  
*********   
  
PART SIX  
  
  
The "just who I needed to top off a perfect day" look O'malley gave him as he walked in made him want to turn right back around and leave again.  
  
"OK Boscorelli, are we gonna do the 'nothing's wrong with me' dance or are you actually here to achieve something?"  
  
Bosco glared at him, thought some more about leaving, then silently settled himself in the chair opposite O'malley.  
  
The gentle sway and creak of the boat punctuated the silence. Bosco stared at the floor.  
  
"I take it this wasn't your idea to be here?"  
  
Bosco nodded.  
  
"Let me guess - you don't think you need it, right?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Let's recap how this works, Boscorelli. I'm a therapist. You come to me, we talk. If you're not prepared to talk, get the hell out."  
  
"Faith's dead."   
  
O'malley watched him carefully and nodded. "I heard."  
  
More silence.  
  
"How have you handled that? Or is that a stupid question?"  
  
Bosco fidgeted.   
  
O'malley fought the urge to throw a blunt and heavy object at him.   
  
"We've been through all this before, and you know what, I can't be bothered spending hours having to chip through your big man act in order to get to what's bugging you." O'malley's voice took on the hard edge of irritation. "How many times do I have to say this before you actually get it Boscorelli? Your problem is you don't grieve. Hell, I'm not even sure you know how to feel. You lock whatever emotion you can't handle away in some kind of bomb proof inner vault and then you tell yourself and whoever else is stupid enough to listen to you that you're OK, you're doing just fine. But you know what? Your shitty life is testament to the fact that you're NOT fine, you have never been fine, and until you stop trying to convince the world that you've got it all figured out when you haven't, you're never gonna BE fine. Just when are you gonna GET that?!"   
  
He watched his client carefully, taking in the averted gaze and the 'don't mess with me' posture that was being presented to him. O'malley, cursing quietly under his breath, stood up. "I've got better things to..."  
  
"You once told me that instead of shedding tears, people like me throw punches."  
  
O'malley sat himself back down and leaned forward. "That's 'cos people like you, men like you, think crying is for pussies."  
  
Bosco was studiously examining the decking at his feet. "I can't go to Faith with this," he said softly.  
  
The tone of O'malley's voice softened slightly. "You trusted her."  
  
"She always had a way of knowing what to say, even if it was sometimes like listening to a mommy lecture."  
  
"You saying you think Faith treated you like a child?"  
  
Bosco shrugged. "That's what it felt like sometimes. Like she didn't feel she could trust me to tie my own shoelaces."  
  
"Why do you think she did that?"  
  
"Faith mothered people, you know? Every loser with a problem, Faith would try to make it all better."   
  
"Of course it wouldn't have anything to do with the way you conduct yourself would it Boscorelli?" O'malley murmured sarcastically. "You know, Faith's concern for others could just mean she was a caring person. Did you ever consider that?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Do you miss Faith?"  
  
Bosco speared him with a look. "What do you think?"  
  
"I'm asking you."  
  
"Yeah I miss her. Of course I miss her. She was my partner, she put up with me when everyone else..." he shrugged. "She cared."  
  
"About you?"  
  
The reply, when it came, was barely audible. "I should be so lucky."  
  
O'malley studied him carefully. "Why lucky?"  
  
Bosco was clearly uncomfortable with that line of inquiry. O'malley tried another angle.  
  
"You admired her?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"In what way?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"What were the qualities you admired in Faith?"  
  
Bosco fixed his gaze on a spot somewhere over O'malley's right shoulder. "She was strong, she knew how to look after herself. And loyal. I knew I could always depend on her, even when she wasn't prepared to put up with any of my crap."   
  
His gaze dropped back down to the decking as he paused to gather his thoughts.  
  
"I loved her sense of humour...and the way she always listened when I needed to talk. She was always there for me - even when I was trying to convince her I didn't need anyone's help. She was someone I knew I could turn to." He shrugged. "That's not what usually happens with me and women."  
  
O'malley leaned forward. "You've placed Faith on a pretty high pedestal, Boscorelli. So I want an honest answer out of you: how do you feel about the fact that she's dead?"  
  
There was a tense silence before Bosco answered.  
  
"It hurts," he whispered. "And it's my fault. I didn't listen...she knew better but I didn't listen."  
  
"So you think if you start feeling all the pain and the guilt it'll never stop?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"We have feelings for a reason, Boscorelli. When we get the hell over ourselves to feel and process them, we can eventually work them through and move on. But when we deny them they mutate into actions and behaviour that can hurt us and the people we love."  
  
Something in him was beginning to crack. "That's the problem, O'malley," Bosco said, his voice filling with emotion.  
  
"What is?"  
  
"I think I might have had...feelings...for Faith."  
  
O'malley sat back in his chair and regarded Bosco with some surprise.  
  
"Do you think she felt the same?"  
  
"No way." Bosco's eyes, rapidly filling with tears, searched the ceiling. "I wasn't anything else to her but her pain-in-the-ass partner."  
  
Once again, O'malley was caught off guard. The level of awareness such an insight required he had thought beyond the likes of Maurice Boscorelli. He had underestimated him.  
  
O'malley considered him carefully.  
  
"Do you accept that your life is crap? And that you need help?"  
  
Bosco eyed him warily for a moment, and then it seemed to O'malley as if he finally gave up some inner fight. Without a word or any sign of descent or posturing, Bosco nodded.  
  
"I don't want you wasting my time, Boscorelli. If being a jerk for the rest of your shitty little existence suits you, then get out. But if you really want to make some changes, tell me now. Are you prepared to do the work?"  
  
Bosco, his face a picture of desolation, looked him straight in the eye and said quietly:  
  
"I need help."  
  
****************   
So do I - nyahaha!!...  
TBC 


	7. The Replacement Part 7

TITLE: THE REPLACEMENT  
  
AUTHOR: MINN  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin' - mores the pity - just playing. No character was really harmed during the typing of this nonsense. The creators of Third Watch are, of course, gods. (But if you ever do get stuck for ideas guys, gimme a call...HAH!)  
  
CHEERS! to all the kind folks who said such nice things about my maiden outing "Grace". Just remember, if you encourage me, you'll NEVER get rid of me...  
  
EXPLAINATION: This wasn't HALF as much fun to write as Grace was, so don't feel too bad if you find yourself not liking it. Consider this as back-story - the journey to Grace, if you like. But be patient. Nothing in the Minn-verse ever happens quickly...  
  
*********   
  
PART SEVEN  
  
  
Lockey glared at Manny across the game of cards they were playing.  
  
"How the hell did you manage it old man?  
  
"Manage what?"  
  
"Today. How'd you manage to get everyone you introduced Marti to, to act like they'd known her just about their whole damn lives?"  
  
Manny placed a card down upon the table. "I simply mentioned to a few people that Marti's mental well-being depended upon her believing she had been part of the group for some time," he replied casually.  
  
Lockey shook his head and chuckled. "You're a piece of work, schoolteacher. A bigger con man than I ever knew how to be."  
  
"I'd take that as a compliment if I didn't know better," Manny mused as he studied his cards carefully.  
  
Lockey watched him for some time. The silence was punctuated by Bob's deep vibrato snoring. Only he and Manny were night owls.  
  
"It's wrong Manny."  
  
Manny glanced at him briefly.  
  
"You're messing with someone else's life."  
  
"As you have done for most of your career."  
  
"That's different Manny! I was conning people out of material things, not their identity."  
  
"This from a man who did time for impersonating an investment broker," Manny growled sourly.  
  
"I didn't steal their lives! Just their money. C'mon Manny, this isn't like you. You don't operate like this! You have a conscience!"  
  
Manny focused on the cards.  
  
"You can see how Marti is going to be invaluable to the group," Manny said calmly. "Look how she handled herself today. Especially when she was dealing with that idiot Peterson."  
  
Lockey sighed heavily. "Damn it Manny."  
  
"Are you playing cards or aren't you?"  
  
"It's wrong. You know it. I know it. And she's remembering new stuff every day."  
  
"So far most of it has little or no meaning to her. Just keep you mouth shut Lockey and let me handle things."  
  
Lockey shook his head. "I can't believe you're actually going through with this. I can't believe someone like you would keep someone from the people they love."  
  
Manny placed a card down and retrieved another, adding it to the hand he held. He said nothing.  
  
----   
  
His blue eyes held her close, and the intensity of the look he was giving her was positively breathtaking. Without hesitation she leaned forward and placed her lips upon his. It was electric. His hands explored her body and she shivered with delight at his touch. For a brief moment she stepped back to gaze into those eyes once more...  
  
She woke with a jolt.  
  
Sitting up quickly she noticed the first wisps of light of a new day were doing their best to penetrate the grime of the basement's small windows. Manny was already up and about, coaxing the fire back into life.  
  
"Awake already?" he asked softly as she made her way over to him. When he saw the look on her face he stopped what he was doing and motioned her to the old couch.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I'm not sure," she replied, returning her thoughts to the dream she had just woken from.  
  
"Something disturbing?" Manny asked gently.  
  
"Strange would be more how I'd describe it," she answered. "I was dreaming I was kissing that man I remember, you know, the one I've told you about?"  
  
"Blue Eyes?" Manny answered.  
  
She nodded. "Then all of a sudden he turned into someone else."  
  
Manny raised his eyebrows. "Someone else?"  
  
"Yeah. I've been having these flashbacks of fighting with this man sometimes, but at other times he looks at me the same way Blue Eyes does."  
  
Manny frowned. "And you still have no idea who either of them are?"  
  
"None," she replied. "All I know is that they both mean something to me. I thought Blueeyes might be my husband, but then I started remembering this other man and he seems to be more associated with the children I remember. God..."  
  
She leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees, bringing her hands either side of her head. "I'm so tired of this. It's like I have their names and everything about my life on the tip of my tongue but I just can't get past the block."  
  
"The mind is a curious thing," said Manny softly, placing his hand on her shoulder to comfort her.  
  
She leaned back and stared at the strengthening light creeping into the gloom of their hideaway. As she looked around she found herself unable to dismiss the growing sense that life with the group was not her life at all. So what was her life? Or rather, what had it been?  
  
"What if," she began, then hesitated.  
  
"What, Marti?"  
  
She turned to him and he flinched at the sight of tears in her beautiful eyes. Words tumbled from her mouth.  
  
"What if I lost my memory a long time ago, before I came here? What if the reason I never told you about my family is because I just didn't remember them? And being hit on the head jogged somethin'. Maybe I somehow lost both those men and that's what made me like this. Maybe this is how my mind is and it's not going to get any better!"  
  
Manny leaned over and put her arm around her and she rested her head upon his shoulder.  
  
"I wish there was something I could do," he said quietly.  
  
"Manny, you're a good man. You're like a father."  
  
Manny turned to stare into the flames of the fire. A father wouldn't lie to you like this, he thought. Wouldn't use you like I'm using you. He stared at the flames and comforted her. Dear God, what have I done? How selfish could I be? What has she, or for that matter the people who love her, ever done to me to deserve this?  
  
An image of Helen gazing back at him with no spark of recognition in her eyes rose in his mind. He shuddered inwardly. What would Helen think of me?  
  
"Are you still getting those headaches?" Manny asked.  
  
She sat up and wiped her cheeks. "Sometimes."  
  
Manny nodded. It was no good. He couldn't go through with it. Lockey was right. What he was doing to this beautiful soul was wrong, and he could no longer outrun his conscience on the matter.  
  
"I think we might take you up to the clinic today, get you checked out," he said.  
  
"If you think that's best, sure."  
  
The trust in her eyes warmed him and alarmed him in equal measure. What would she do when she realised he had lied to her?  
  
"We'll get an early start this morning," he smiled, but his heart was heavy.  
  
----  
  
He had no idea what he was doing driving around like this. He should have been at home, safe in bed getting some much-needed sleep. But sleep had been hard to come by this last month.  
  
Bosco stopped his car outside a small diner and looked around as he stepped out into the chill air. The shabby old neighbourhood was quiet, just a few folks going about on early morning business. He figured he was only a couple of blocks away from where he and Faith had been attacked. Damn. The place was like a magnet for him now.  
  
The coffee to be had in the diner was surprisingly good, but was served with a sharp glare by a waitress none too sure about the stranger in their midst. Bosco ignored her and the rest of the regulars, and sat staring out the window beside him.  
  
----   
  
Meredith was dragging her feet as they crossed the almost deserted street.  
  
"Why so early?" she whined.  
  
"Because we have things to do," Manny explained patiently.  
  
The thin early morning sunlight held very little warmth, and Meredith walked with her head down and her arms wrapped around her.  
  
"Cold," she muttered.  
  
Up ahead Lockey called over this shoulder: "Well go back home then Loopy!"  
  
Meredith came to an abrupt halt right in the middle of the road, pouting. "Don't call me that!"  
  
"Don't listen to him sweetie," Faith said warmly, turning back to where Meredith stood. "Here, put this on - it'll keep you warm."  
  
Manny watched as Faith tucked the scarf she had been wearing around Meredith's neck, who beamed as if she'd been given a million dollars. As they moved off again he listened to Faith giving Lockey a ticking off and reflected once more on what an asset she was to the group - and on how much he was going to miss her when she left. There was no turning back, he thought. I can't do this to you any more, Faith Yokas.  
  
Bob and Lockey wandered along in front debating the finer points of some long gone sporting event both had apparently attended. Meredith bounced along beside Faith, bending her ears about how naughty Lockey was and how nice it was of her to give Meredith her scarf. Manny brought up the rear, a sense of dread weighing heavily upon him.  
  
----   
  
The second cup of coffee wasn't helping much. He still felt like hell. The sleep deprivation of the past month, due in no small measure to the recurring images of Faith that galloped through his head, was starting to have physical consequences. His growing realisation that Faith had in fact meant much to him than he'd ever consciously suspected was taking its emotional toll as well.  
  
It had been tough sitting poker-faced through the memorial service listening to tearful speaker after tearful speaker praise Faith to the heavens. Fred had asked him if he wanted to say a few words but he had declined. He hadn't trusted himself to get through it in any kind of sensible manner. What could he say? Faith was great. I loved her. No, really, I did. I just didn't realise it till now. Didn't realise she meant more to me than any women in my life ever has. And man, there have been a few women in my life. No one else like Faith though.  
  
Maybe it was for the best, he had taken to telling himself. You'd only screw it up anyway. What about Charlie and Em? Could you handle being the man that came between their parents? Christ, who are you kidding Maurice? If you'd ever made a move on Faith she would have shot your dick off.  
  
Maybe it was for the best. Faith didn't know how he felt, and she never would. End of story.  
  
Bosco took a gulp of coffee and gazed out the window. There was more activity around now, more signs of life greeting the day. He watched as a group of homeless people crossed the road a little way down the street. One of them stopped abruptly in the middle of the road and shouted something. One of her companions came back and tucked the scarf she had been wearing around the woman's neck. With that they moved off, meandering over to the opposite side of the street from where he sat. He frowned. The figure sloping along at the back seemed familiar. So did the two women, the one with the scarf, but more especially the one who had...  
  
The coffee cup clattered to the table.  
  
The waitress and the regulars stared as the stranger sprang out of his seat and flew out the door.  
  
********   
  
TBC 


	8. The Replacement Final Part

TITLE: THE REPLACEMENT  
  
AUTHOR: MINN  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin' - mores the pity - just playing. No character was really harmed during the typing of this nonsense. The creators of Third Watch are, of course, gods. (But if you ever do get stuck for ideas guys, gimme a call...HAH!)  
  
CHEERS! to all the kind folks who said such nice things about my maiden outing "Grace". Just remember, if you encourage me, you'll NEVER get rid of me...  
  
EXPLAINATION: This wasn't HALF as much fun to write as Grace was, so don't feel too bad if you find yourself not liking it. Consider this as back-story - the journey to Grace, if you like. But be patient. Nothing in the Minn-verse ever happens quickly...  
  
*********   
  
PART EIGHT  
  
  
Lockey saw him first. He spun around to catch the older man's attention but realised Manny had already seen; his face was as white as a sheet.  
  
Faith glanced up at Lockey, wondering at the sudden halt in movement and conversation. Someone approaching to her left caught her eye and she turned.  
  
There he stood. The intensity of his gaze was such that she couldn't find it in herself to move or say a word for a good length of time. His face was a picture of conflicting emotions, but those eyes of his still held the look, the one she had lost herself in so many times in her dreams.  
  
"My God," he murmured. "It is you."  
  
To his astonishment Faith suddenly stepped forward and reached out her arms to him. Her eyes never left his until their lips met, gently at first and then with greater urgency. It never even occurred to him not to return her kiss with just as much, if not more, passion and intensity.  
  
She was shaking as they parted. "I want to come home," she whispered, "I want to be with you and the kids..."  
  
"Whoa, Faith," he said, pushing her away slightly.  
  
She stared at him, confused.  
  
"Faith? That's my name? Faith?"  
  
A chill ran through him. "You don't know?"  
  
She frowned.  
  
"Faith," she repeated. She looked away and stared fixedly at the ground for some time.  
  
The others looked on, holding their breath. Manny couldn't help noticing the look of anguish that was clouding Bosco's face.  
  
"Faith, do you know who I am?" he asked.  
  
She stared at him. "I'm Faith. You're...you're..."  
  
With a sudden and unexpected motion she pushed him violently away, appalled.  
  
The look on Bosco's face became a mixture of horror and little boy bewilderment.  
  
"Faith, I'm sorry..."  
  
"I'm Faith Yokas...I'm married...to Fred. We have two children...Charlie and Emily...Oh my God, Charlie and Emily!"  
  
Faith whirled around to face Manny. Lockey and the others shrank from the fury they saw in her face.  
  
"My children! I have children Manny! And a husband with a heart condition! They probably think I'm dead!"  
  
Manny looked away. "Faith, I'm so sorry..."  
  
"You lied to me Manny! You son of a bitch, you lied to me!"  
  
She rounded on Bosco, who could barely bring himself to meet her eyes.  
  
"Don't just stand there like an ass, Bosco! Get a couple of units down here!"  
  
"You're arresting them?"  
  
"What do you think?" she spat impatiently. "And then call Fred and have him meet us at the house."  
  
"Don't you want to do that yourself?"  
  
"I do, but the shock of hearing my voice might just be a bit much for him, don't you think?" She snatched the hat she was wearing off her head and threw it at him. "Don't you ever use your damn brain? You always let your johnson do your thinking for you, don't you Maurice?"  
  
Bosco turned away and dragged his mobile from the pocket of his jacket. Behind him Faith faced Manny down and told him in no uncertain terms how many charges she would be laying against his sorry ass that day.  
  
----   
  
"Sister Alison asked me to tell you she's praying for you."  
  
Manny looked up at him and nodded gently.  
  
"I can't thank you enough for taking Bob and Meredith to the shelter, Officer Boscorelli. And for bringing Gerald here."  
  
Bosco shrugged. "No problem." He turned and looked over to where Manny's elderly lawyer friend stood arguing the toss with Swerskey out in the corridor.  
  
Manny looked across to Lockey who sat glaring at him from across the room.  
  
"We're at that bridge now, old man," Lockey growled.  
  
"I'll figure something out," Manny said.  
  
"Riiight."  
  
Manny inhaled heavily. "I take it Faith has been reunited with her family?"  
  
He watched Bosco carefully as the younger man recounted how Fred had scooped Faith into his arms, and how they'd stood in the middle of the precinct house sobbing. How thrilled Charlie and even Emily had been to see their mother and Faith's own immeasurable delight at seeing them all.  
  
Manny could plainly see the torment Bosco was attempting to hide with a show of 'I don't care' bravado.  
  
"Faith deserves every happiness," Manny said quietly.  
  
Bosco nodded and stared at the floor for a while. "Why'd you do it Manny?"  
  
Manny sighed. "Purely out of concern for the well being of people who have so foolishly put their trust in me."  
  
Bosco crossed his arms and waited for more.  
  
"I needed to find a replacement, Officer Boscorelli, someone with enough heart and courage and acumen to make a good leader. Faith has all those qualities, and more." He nodded at the frown that crossed Bosco's face. "I am an idealist, a dreamer. And a damned old fool."  
  
"You said it Manny," Lockey said sourly.  
  
"I don't know what will become of them all without me, you see," Manny continued. "I suppose I imagine for myself a greater role than I actually have in the scheme of things."  
  
"I think Sister Alison is going to have a few words to you about that Manny," Bosco replied.  
  
Manny chuckled. "I'm sure."  
  
He regarded Bosco for some moments. "You love her, don't you?" he said after a while. "Faith I mean."  
  
Bosco's eyes glanced at him briefly. Then without a word he turned and left the room.  
  
----   
  
"I dropped the charges."  
  
Faith watched her partner for any sign of a reaction. Bosco merely nodded and continued writing notes in a small journal balanced on his knee.  
  
"Did you hear me?"  
  
He shrugged. "I heard. What? What d'ya want me to say?"  
  
"Fred wasn't that pleased," she continued. "At least, I don't think he was. It's sometimes hard to tell with him any more."  
  
"I could understand if he was," Bosco mumbled. "Some old maniac kidnaps his wife and tries to turn her into his little protege."  
  
"It wasn't like that. Manny did it for the sake of the others."  
  
"I get that too Faith." He flipped the page of the book he was reading and began taking notes once more.  
  
"What's with these books you've been readin' lately?" she asked.  
  
Bosco shrugged. "They're books."  
  
"Why do they all have black covers?"  
  
Bosco shrugged.  
  
Faith glared at him. "So what are they about?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The books. What are they about?"  
  
"Stuff."  
  
Faith rolled her eyes. "For godsake..."  
  
Bosco continued reading.  
  
She watched him. She had taken time off to be with her family after being reunited with them, thankful also for the opportunity of not having to deal with Bosco immediately. When she returned to duty they had both done a very good job of pretending that all was business as usual, that nothing unusual or untoward had occurred. That had suited her at first, but now their mutual avoidance of the subject was beginning to bother her a little. He still had trouble meeting her eyes and was still going to some lengths to avoid her whenever and wherever possible outside of working hours.  
  
"I wonder how they're all doing?" she murmured.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Manny and the others."  
  
"Wanna go down and check on them?" Bosco answered without looking up.  
  
"D'ya mind?"  
  
He shrugged, closing up the book and journal and stowing them in the pocket on the door. "If you're out of the car yakking to someone else, I don't have to listen to you. Sounds like a plan to me."  
  
Manny sat in the sun, a mug of coffee in his hands. Meredith sat next to him her knees clasped under her chin, rocking back and forth. At the sight of Faith rounding the corner in her uniform she fled down into the basement.  
  
The same warmth and fondness Manny had always regarded her with still gleamed in his eyes as she approached, and she found herself relieved by that.  
  
"Gerald tells me you have dropped all charges," he said softly, motioning her to the chair next to him. "Thank you."  
  
"It doesn't mean I forgive you for what you put my family through Manny," she replied.  
  
"I ask not forgiveness, merely understanding."  
  
Faith regarded him fondly. "I understand why you did it. It was wrong, but I understand."  
  
There was relief in his eyes.  
  
"So what brings you back, Officer Yokas?"  
  
"Faith," she said. "I just wanted to check in, see if you're all doing alright."  
  
Manny's eyes sparkled. "We're all fine. There are going to be a few changes soon, but all for the good. Thank you for caring," he said softly. "Is all well with you and yours?"  
  
"Things are getting back to normal," she replied.  
  
Manny nodded and sipped his coffee, thoughtful. "I'd imagine that might be a little difficult given what happened between you and Blue Eyes."  
  
Faith scowled at him.  
  
"It disturbs you, doesn't it? That he was the first person you remembered, not your husband."  
  
She looked away and didn't say a word.  
  
"You're scared you might have feelings for him."  
  
"I don't have feelings for Bosco!" she snapped.  
  
"Not consciously," Manny murmured, "and not that you would allow yourself to have. But your subconscious mind says otherwise."  
  
Faith shook her head sharply. "It just goes to show how screwed up my mind was. It was a complete fiction - Bosco's nothing but an immature, arrogant, bigoted little know-it-all."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
She glared at him. "I work with him every day, I should know."  
  
"Faith, take it from someone who knows. Sometimes people will show us just exactly what we expect them to show us. With my students I always found that if I believed them capable of great things, sooner or later they would prove me right." He chuckled at the look of disbelief etched on her face. "I'm picking your first impressions of Officer Boscorelli weren't great?"   
  
"First, second, third impressions..." she mumbled.  
  
Manny smiled. "But sometime, somewhere you have had a glimpse of some other side to him, some potential. With your memories and your assumptions out of the way your subconscious has run with what is left, the potential. It 'created a fiction' as you put it. Well, maybe for the most part it was. But I think the love you saw in his eyes, which you responded to, is real enough."  
  
Faith stared into the distance. "There are moments when he drops the bullshit act..."  
  
"What is he like when that happens?"  
  
She shrugged. "He's kinda...sweet, I guess. Vulnerable..."  
  
"Troubled childhood?"  
  
She nodded. "Father used to beat them."  
  
"Issues," Manny murmured.  
  
"...for Africa," Faith replied. "But don't we all?"  
  
"Some of us need to work a little harder in overcoming our pasts Faith, and require a little more support in the process. I get the impression he trusts you - and you would be one of the few people in this world he has extended that privilege to."  
  
Faith stared at the ground just in front of her.  
  
"It's a beautiful thing to watch someone evolve into the potential you've glimpsed in them." Manny watched her quietly. "But that's what you're most afraid of, isn't it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"That Maurice Boscorelli will some day become someone you will no longer be content to keep at arms length."  
  
Faith looked at Manny, horrified.  
  
"The one constant in the Universe is change, Faith," the old man said gently. "Our growth as human beings depends on it."  
  
She got up quickly and seemed for a moment intent on leaving. But she lingered.  
  
"If there's anything any of you need Manny, just call me OK?"  
  
Manny nodded and smiled up at her just as the radio she wore burst into life.  
  
"We've got a call Faith," he heard Bosco say.  
  
"OK," she responded, gazing down at Manny.  
  
"Sometimes Life has bigger plans for us than we do ourselves," he said gently.  
  
Faith turned on her heel and without another word walked away.  
  
  
******************   
  
  
Ta Dah! Boy, I bet you're glad that's over... 


End file.
